


Irresistible

by Dragons4ever



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Valentine's Challenge, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragons4ever/pseuds/Dragons4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He wanted to kiss her cheeks until they were rosy, wanted to kiss her temple as she dozed off curled against him, wanted to taste her skin and breath and body. He just wanted her so much, /loved/ her so much."</p>
<p>For khaleesimaka's SoMa Valentine's Challenge on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Like the description says, this collection is for Khaleesimaka's SoMa Valentine's Challenge, which was to write a thing every day from Feb 1st to 14th, based on prompts she created. It was tremendous amount of fun so I wanted to share it.
> 
> Most of these fills can be considered Teen, with only one reaching into the Mature category, and it will be labeled as such in its notes. Likewise, only one fill has major character death, and will again be labeled as such in its notes.
> 
> Enjoy!

Soul classified his first kiss in two ways.

One, the first time his lips touched someone else’s over the age of thirteen.

Two, the first time he kissed someone, and meant it.

For the first, it had been an accident. He had been fifteen for less than a month and had been standing by his locker, waiting for Star to finish getting scolded by Nygus after class, while his meister told him off for something. What it was that had pissed Maka off this time, he did not know—he had stopped listening fairly early on into her tirade.

She must have caught on to the fact that he was not listening, because suddenly her face was in his, and if her lips did not grab his immediate and complete attention, then he was not sure what would.

But she was not allowed to know that, so he let himself get annoyed at her being annoyed.

“Get out of my face,” he snapped.

She growled. “Then pay attention when I’m talking to you, you id—”

She was cut off by someone slamming into her as they ran past, which pushed her against him. Normally, he would have had no problem with this, since his stupid little crush made him as needy for any sort of touch as a puppy. But in that instance, he _did_ have a problem with it—well, not so much a _problem_ , so much as a **_holy fuck, what even—_**

He had never dreamed her lips would feel so soft and warm against his, and he would have liked to appreciate the sensation for a little longer, but the fact that his meister’s eyes betrayed how shocked and downright _horrified_ she was stopped him. However, the shock left him unable to move for several _long_ moments, and he simply stared at her as she stared at him.

They seemed to regain control over their bodies at the same time, and they both pulled away, faces flaming. If it had happened to anyone else, he probably would have laughed, but he could not find the amusement in it from where he was standing.

A whoop came from down the hall, signalling that Black*Star was on his way. A look passed between Soul and his partner, one he did not understand, and Maka bolted, leaving him to try and put his cool back together. It did not work very well, Star spent a long time laughing at the colour of his face.

Soul’s other first kiss, the _meaningful_ one, did not happen until about a year and a bit later, after he had become a deathscythe and shortly after the whole Book of Eibon mess.

Since coming out of the book, there had been tension between Soul and his meister. Not so much _bad_ tension—maybe tension was the wrong word. It was more like there was an impending sense of change hanging over their heads, like even the smallest whisper would knock their carefully maintained, though fragile, order into chaos. It was frightening. It was exciting. It was actually kind of annoying after a while. The tension was building but there did not seem to be any climax in sight.

The incidence of change finally happened on a lazy Saturday, when they were both messing about, listening to his ipod and dancing around the living room.

Maka laughed at something he said as he spun her (she had gotten much better at dancing since their first time, all she needed was practice), and he was struck by how beautiful she was, hair loose and smile wide. A slow song came on and he pulled her to him in a sort of daze, still reeling from the sudden force of _feelings_ that almost made his heart give out.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and his arms were around her waist as they swayed. It felt so much more intimate than their normal slow dance, he could feel her body brush against his as they moved, felt her chest expand against his as they breathed. Her eyes were locked on his and he found it hard to swallow as all the moisture in his body went to his sweaty palms.

He wanted to kiss her—the kiss in the hallway over a year ago haunted him (though it could hardly be called a kiss, more a face smash)—and not just on the lips, _all over_. He wanted to kiss her cheeks until they were rosy, wanted to kiss her temple as she dozed off curled against him, wanted to taste her skin and breath and body. He just wanted her so much, _loved_ her so much.

The words to ask her for all that piled up in his throat, trying to arrange and rearrange themselves into a way that would not get him chopped or punched or rejected. He ended up being choked by all the ways to ask for a kiss.

The playlist ended, but he did not hear the silence over the sound of his own heartbeat.

“Can I kiss you?” Maka said suddenly, face caught between a pout and a hopeful smile as her cheeks flushed faintly.

His eye brows shot up and his breath hitched. “Fuck yeah!” he blurted, then blushed furiously at his croaking voice and enthusiasm.

Her laugh made him want to hide his burning face, but the soft hand on his cheek kept him from running. She stood on her toes so her lips could meet his until he leaned down a bit to accommodate her, meeting her kiss firmly and wonderfully.


	2. Chocolate

Soul had planned on giving Maka Valentine’s day chocolate and telling her how he felt.

Soul had then chickened out at the last second, after a hearing a particularly heated complaint about how stupid Valentine’s day was from Maka, and had stuffed the box of chocolates in the back of his pants drawer.

Soul had forgotten that his meister often liked to steal his clothes.

Soul was not prepared for said meister dropping the box of chocolates on his lap the day after Valentine’s, or for how _hurt_ she looked.

“You said you threw them all out,” she said. “You lied.”

He blinked up at her, heart thumping nervously while his brain tried to make sense of her words. The conclusion he came to was: “What?”

Maka crossed her arms and scowled. “Look, I don’t care if you _are_ interested in one of your fangirls, but at least be honest with me about it. I’d rather know if you wanted to start dating so I can start giving you more space. Keeping secrets isn’t cool you know, and neither is leading people on.”

Again, he blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Her face went a little red and she moved her arms to clench her fists at her sides. “You said you threw away all the Valentine’s chocolate from your little _fanclub_ ,” she spat. Suddenly a finger was in his face. “You said you weren’t interested in any of them, and I thought—” She stopped herself and withdrew her finger. She took a deep breath and folded her hands in front of her. Her tone was softer as she said, “It-it doesn’t matter that you kept some of it, but just be honest with me, OK?”

His brain finally caught up.

“You think this is from my fanclub?” he said.

It was her turn to blink, confused by his incredulous tone. “Well, who else would it be from?”

 A little smile grew on his face. “Maybe I _bought_ it?”

Her eyebrows scrunched up and his smile _might_ have widened at how adorable she looked.

“But why would you buy Valentine’s day chocolate, and not give it to anyone? That’s why it was in your drawer, right? Because you didn’t give it to anyone?” she asked, folded hands now fidgeting with each other.

He swallowed and took a deep breath. “Because you said you hated Valentine’s day, and how commercialised it was. How it promoted a false idea of love based on gratitude and gift-giving.” He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heat. “I didn’t want to piss you off on a day that already made you unhappy—” he held the box out to her “—but you can have them now if you like.”

She looked at him in stunned silence for a long moment, before jerkily reaching out and taking the box from his hands. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s cool. Now, we gonna watch a film or not?” he said, waving the remote in his hand.

She smiled at him and nodded, cheeks a little pink. “Yeah.”

Half way through the film, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I’ll never be interested in those fangirls,” he whispered. “Not when I’ve got you.”

She squeaked and hid her face in his sweatshirt, but stayed pressed against him for rest of the movie, eventually wrapping her arms around his waist once she got over her embarrassment.


	3. Hugs

Hugging the person she was secretly in love with was the best and worst thing in the world, Maka was sure.

On one hand, the affection always left her feeling warm and loved, like maybe she really had a chance with her partner-best-friend-soulmate. Especially when he gave her soft looks and brushed his fingers through her hair, as she lay sprawled on top of him on the couch during a movie.

On the other hand, walking away always served to remind her of her position in Soul’s life. Meister. Roommate. _Friend_. Lying in bed after saying goodnight, cold and alone, she berated herself for always reading too much into her partner’s actions. Were his looks really soft, or were they soft because she believed them to be in the first place? Was he really affectionate with her, or was he just putting up with her huggy-ness?

Maka sighed as she watched Soul pull his suitcase to the door. He was off to the Witch Realm with Kid again, and while she would have liked to have gone with them, she had just started her teaching training course and needed to stay put.

They stared at each for a moment, before he opened his arms for her and she stepped into his embrace. These types of hugs were the best and worst.

Best in that Soul held her tighter, and for longer, and pressed his face into her neck, just like she did. Best in that it was almost as if they were an actual couple, and at any moment Soul was going to turn his head to catch her lips with his and kiss her longingly. Best in that it made her feel loved and needed.

But it the worst in that when he pulled away, without trying to kiss her, she was once again reminded of her place as his friend, his _best_ friend. Worst in that even if the hug was longer than usual, it still was not long enough to satisfy her. Worst in that it left her heart empty and aching for something she could never have.

After a final check that he had everything, and an assurance that he did, they both said goodbye. Bitterness clogged her throat as she watched the door shut behind him, but she forced it back down and turned to retreat to her room. She had work to do.

A week later he was back, and though she was happy (positively ecstatic) for his return, they did not hug as soon as he came through the door. There was always this awkwardness between them after a separation, as though they had forgotten how to coexist.

Normally, one of them caved after couple of days or so and affectionate, _platonic_ touching resumed. This time, it hardly took Soul a day to break.

He pulled her close when she walked by him and into the kitchen to make dinner, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. She quickly reciprocated, letting him tuck her head under his chin.

“I missed you,” he murmured into her hair.

She sighed happily and smiled. “I missed you too.”

He hummed, but did not let her go. Instead, he started to sway them a little, and though she did not stop him—nor did she want to—she was a little weirded out. Normally Soul would have let go of her by now, and she could not think why this would suddenly change. A week was not the longest time they had been apart, and since he was unharmed and nothing had happened to her, there had been no near-death experiences to scare him.

“You know?” he finally whispered, after they had been swaying for what felt like hours. “I love you.” She opened her mouth to answer but he continued, “And not in a friend way. Well, also in a friend well, but I meant in a romance way. _I love you_.”

She felt him tense a little against her, and she simply smiled, and pressed her face against his chest more. “I love you too,” she breathed. “In a romance way.”

The breath rushed out of him in relief and she giggled a little. Then, she finally got her wish for him to catch her lips with his, and kiss her for all he was worth.


	4. Red Roses

“Would you laugh if I said I wanted red roses for the bouquet?”

Soul had to look up from one of the various bakers-and-their-cakes lists his fiancée had given him to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would I laugh at you for that? You’re the one carrying it,” he said.

Maka fiddled a little with the pages of a bridal magazine. “It’s cliché.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So? If you want red roses, you can have red roses. We haven’t decided on flowers yet, so you can whatever you want.” He scoffed a little at her beaming smile. “If it makes you happy, I’m not going to laugh at it. Geez, I’m not _that_ much asshole.”

She laughed a little and he let himself smile. “You’re not an asshole, Soul.”

“Not even when I let the curry burn because I’m watching basketball?”

“OK,” she said, giggling. “Maybe a _little_ bit of an asshole.”

He smirked. “You know it _babe_. Gotta match you after all.”

It was totally worth getting hit by fifteen different bridal magazines.

And then, six months later, she beat him with her bouquet of red roses during their reception after he whispered a lewd comment in her ear. Again, totally worth it.


	5. Date

Maka stood outside her apartment door and took several deep breaths. She was Maka Fuckin’ Albarn, three-star meister, creator of the Last Deathscythe, and all-around bad-ass. She could totally do this.

With ‘you are a badass and you can fucking do this’ as an internal mantra, she opened the door and walked up to Soul’s room. She kicked open his door, watching him jump about a foot in the air from where he had been lounging on his bed.

“Maka, what the—”

“Would you like to go see a movie with me some time?” she asked, pointing at him from where she stood in the doorway, cheeks warm and voice business-like.

He blinked. “Are-are you asking me out?”

“Yes.”

“On a date?”

“Yes.”

“O-oh,” he said, pinking, voice squeaking a little. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, the new Mission Impossible looks interesting?”

“Would you like to see it next Friday?”

“Sure.”

She nodded. “Good. Your turn to cook dinner. See you then.”

And with that, she turned and walked to her room, leaving her weapon flustered, a little confused, and a lot elated.

Just before she shut her door she called out, “I love you by the way!”

She heard him splutter a little before shouting back, “I love you too!” Her door closed with a click and he added, “You dork, ask me normally next time!”

“Next time, it’s your turn to ask!” was her reply.


	6. Flirt

Soul ‘Eater’ Evans was cool, definitely the coolest person he knew (a total lie). And as a cool person, he definitely knew how to flirt with the girl he had a huge crush on (also a total lie).

With this in mind, it was weird (completely understandable) that when he asked out Maka Albarn—valedictorian, head cheerleader, class president, future prom queen—she was taken completely by surprise.

“Wait so, all that time I thought you were just teasing, you were actually trying to flirt with me?” she said.

“Po-possibly?” he stuttered, shoulders hunching up around his neck. Oh man, he had totally fucked this up.

Then she started giggling. Then full on _laughing_. She actually doubled over she was laughing so hard.

He spluttered for a moment. “At least let a guy walk away before you start laughing at how pathetic he is!”

She started waving her hands, still giggling at little as she said, “No, no, no, no, not laughing at you! It’s just, you always confused me. You’d be really nice, and I’d start to think you were into me, but then you’d make fun of me and I’d think you only saw me as a friend.” She stopped laughing and instead blushed a little. “It’s nice to know my feelings aren’t one sided.”

“Seriously?” he asked, voice hopeful.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He was aware that his grin was the definition of goofy and dumb, but he could not help it. “Cool.”

She giggled again as she slipped her hand into his, giving his hand a squeeze when he intertwined their fingers.

As they walked to the school carpark, which was likely to be empty this long after the end of the school day, Maka said, “I think we need to work on your flirting skills, to avoid further confusion.”

He blushed, and then scowled when she laughed at his red face.


	7. Love Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that contains mentioned major character death and grief. Read at your own discretion.

For a long time after the funeral, she could not bear to go into his room. While Soul may have been a quiet person, he was never _silent_ , and the silence of his room was all kinds of wrong.

Eventually though, she had to. Soul would not have wanted her to wallow in memories, he would have wanted her to move on with her life, to find happiness again.

And the first step to moving on was emptying the apartment they had shared so that she could go somewhere else, somewhere ghosts would not haunt her. He had left everything to her after all, so technically everything in the apartment was hers to do with as she wished.

At first all she could do was sit in his room and cry. She would pick up things and remember when they had been parts of his life. After a while she managed to open his wardrobe and drawers and start packing his clothes into boxes to go to second hand shops. She took all his school books and set them in a pile to be thrown out. Knick-knacks on shelves and posters were put in a box to go to a charity shop that sold all sorts of odds and ends. Records were put to the side, to be sent to his brother, who would appreciate them more (while a couple she set aside for herself).

Then came his desk.

She found a couple of porn magazines in the bottom drawer and immediately placed them in the pile to be thrown out. In the top drawer were tangles of broken headphones he had never thrown away, various chargers and cables, and some pens and pencils. The middle drawer though, was filled with music sheets, covered in his scrawl.

She took a deep breath and blinked back the stinging in her eyes and set the sheets on top of the desk to deal with later.

Underneath the music sheets were a handful of cassettes. They were all labelled ‘Love Letter’, followed by a number from one to six.

Maka put those on top of the desk too.

After all the stuff to be thrown out had been thrown out, and the things to be given away were given away, with only the records, music sheets, and cassettes left, Maka sat down next to her (their) stereo. She put the cassette labelled ‘Love Letter 1’ in first, eyes watering before she even pressed play.

Once she did though, her heart stopped.

“This is so uncool,” she heard her weapon mutter through the stereo speakers. Then he cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

The sounds of a piano rang out, achingly sweet and slow. Maka cried in earnest as the song continued.

When the song ended, Soul cleared his throat again and murmured, “For you, Maka.”

Maka sobbed that night as she had not since the night her weapon died for her, playing each of the cassettes, crying until no more tears came.

She had the cassette songs converted into CDs, downloaded them onto her ipod and kept them for the rest of her life, even when she found someone to love, even when she got married and had children.

She never forgot the love letters from her first love, her _true_ love. Her Soul.


	8. Be Mine

Soul sat on the couch, turning the packet of candy hearts over in his hands. Star had thrown them at him earlier in the day, clucked and waved his arms in an imitation of chicken wings, and then ran off cackling. Soul had been tempted to chuck them in the bin, but had stopped himself at the last moment.

The shower was running, Maka had not wanted to hang around after training had finished at the end of the day, to avoid all the red and pink that decorated the halls for Valentine’s, so she was taking her shower now. He had already showered, had actually elbowed his meister out of the way to get to the hot water first, but now he was left staring at the candy.

It was stupid, ridiculous, and probably masochistic, but he was seriously considering opening the pack and eating them one by one, after reading each printed message. All because he was pining after his painfully oblivious partner, who—judging by the sudden absence of the sound of water—was about to exit the bathroom in just a towel and walk to her room, if his melancholy did not tempt her to come and investigate what had soured his mood.

The door opened, and Maka came out, followed by a cloud of steam. He watched her go, thankful that she seemed too absorbed by whatever she was thinking about to register his traitorously sad wavelength, and he breathed a sigh of relief once her bedroom door shut behind her.

Before he could think too much about it, he opened the packet and pulled out the first sweet.

“My Baby” it said, and he scoffed slightly as he threw it into his mouth. He was indeed a baby; a big, old, sappy baby who could not get over his silly little crush.

He picked out another one, and it was not much better. “First Love” was oh so painfully true.

Then came “Kiss”, “Lush Lips”, “Hold Me”, and “Love Bug”. As he ate more, he felt himself become both angry and sad. Angry that he was feeling that way, angry that there was not anything he could do to stop himself from loving his meister, angry that it was so damn obvious to everyone but her. Sad that Maka would never return his feelings, sad that she would leave him if she ever found out how he felt, sad that he was probably going to have to watch her fall in love with someone else. It was so utterly—

“Hey, what you got there?”

Soul jumped and whirled around, spilling a couple of the candies in his lap. “Damnit, don’t do that!” he growled, and Maka merely snickered. “One day I’m going to keel over from a heart attack, and then you’ll be sorry!”

She patted his head and she rounded the couch to plop down next to him. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and she was dressed in her pyjamas. “Oh, my poor, abused weapon, I’m sorry I scared you.” Her smile was too smug for him to ever take her seriously.

He sneered and did not say anything, instead popping one of the candies that had spilled on his lap in his mouth, and crunching it purposefully.

“A present from a fangirl?” Maka teased as she picked one from the packet, reading the message, but not eating it. Her voiced sounded a little strained, but he forced himself not to think too much of it, it would only get his hopes up to a place they should never go.

He scoffed. “A projectile from Black*Star.”

She laughed, shoulders visibly relaxing a little. “Your bromance is getting serious. When’s the wedding?”

“Ha ha,” he said with all the sarcasm he could muster, which was a lot. “You’re hilarious.”

“Am I going to be your maid of honour?” she continued. “White would suit you well.”

White would actually suit her a lot better, he would do better in black and red. Not that he was going to say that out loud.

“The candy’s gonna melt if you hold it much longer,” he said to change the subject.

She blinked, then looked down at the heart in her hand. “Oh, yeah. Here.” She pressed the sweet into his palm, pushing it down with her thumb and giving him a meaningful look, then got her feet and smiled as if nothing had happened. “I’ll get started on dinner, don’t eat too many of those, or you won’t be hungry enough for later.”

When she was gone, he stared at the message on the sweet she had given him.

“Be Mine”.

He could not help the giddy little smile as he put it in his mouth.

When Maka went to bed that night, she found a little sweet resting on her pillow.

“I Love You”.

She gave him a kiss the next morning.


	9. Desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the one that strays more into Mature ratings, with mentioned/implied sexy times. Read at your own discretion.

Maka might have loathed the very idea, but there was no denying it: she very much desired her best friend and weapon.

And not just in a sexual way (though there was plenty of that), but also in a romantic and platonic way. She wanted to hold his hand and kiss him, she wanted to go on dates with him and hang out, she wanted to spend hours talking and then spend hours revelling in their comfortable silence. And she wanted all of that very, _very_ badly.

Naturally she thought all her desire and want and love was extremely one sided. Plenty of teasing about her lack of sex appeal had firmly instilled the idea in her brain that hell would freeze over and pigs would fly before Soul ‘Eater’ Evans found her attractive.

In reality, nothing could have been further from the truth. Soul had wrestled with his desire for his meister for as long as she had, forcing his feelings down into the dark depths of his mind, and covering for any and all sappiness by teasing her. Because after all, Maka had never been quiet about her hatred for all things romantic, so he clearly had more chance at winning the lottery twice over than at winning her heart.

Their mutual pining would have continued for a lot longer than simply until they were nineteen if it had not been for a two glasses of spiked punch each at a Black*Star’s birthday party, followed by some very hot and heavy dancing to bass heavy music. At the end of the night they ended up back at Soul’s room, cuddling after copious amounts of kissing.

After this, there was no holding back on their desires. Kissing turned into making out, which turned into heavy petting, which turned into oral, which finally turned into full on sex. And even after this, after finally getting what she had wanted since she was fifteen, Maka discovered that being with Soul in no way lessened her desire for him, but in fact increased it by at least tenfold.

Before, she could restrain herself from ogling him when he was half-dressed, reprimanding herself for being a pervert, but now? Now she could not take her eyes off him, something he had at first been a little embarrassed about, but soon enough he lavished in her attention, making into a game: what could he do to get Maka’s complete attention?

Which was actually what he was doing right now.

Maka was curled up on the couch, reading a book, and Soul had just come out of his room wearing low-riding sweatpants, hair still a little damp from an earlier shower. Her eyes flicked over the top of her book to trace his chest, but quickly reverted back to the words in front of her when she caught sight of his grin. And so the game began.

He yawned loudly and stretched his arms over his head, bending them as the elbow to his fingers linked behind his neck, purposefully making all the muscles in his chest move. His noise might have attracted her attention, had she not been so used to his tactics, but she kept her gaze locked on her book. She saw him pout a little in the corner of her eye, and was aware of him walking over to the couch to lean over the back of it to get in her face.

“Makaaaa,” he whined. “When’s dinner?”

Her gaze remained focused on her book. “When you make it,” she said.

He sighed, loudly, and lay his head on his arm, which was in turn resting on the back of the couch. “I thought it was your turn to cook,” he murmured, pouting some more.

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ sound and turned a page with deliberate noise.

Soul glanced at her, before straightening and rounding the side of the couch, so he was standing behind her as she leaned against the arm. She knew what was coming before he even touched her. He thought a massage would help him win her over, but oh, not today. Today she would not lose.

“You feel tense,” he said once he began to squeeze her shoulders. “You shouldn’t work so hard.”

“Maybe you should work a little more, then I wouldn’t have to work so hard to make up for your slack.”

He gave her shoulders a firm squeeze. “That’s not fair, I do my share of the work. You’re just a perfectionist who stresses herself out over nothing.”

As his hands began to work on her shoulders and upper back, she had to admit, the man knew what he was doing. She felt herself beginning to melt, but quickly steeled herself. She would not give in so easily. If she was going to give her boyfriend attention, he was going to have to work for it, dammnit! That would wipe the smug look off his face.

“You know,” he said after several long moments of silence, as he attempted to turn her into putty via his wonderful hands. “You need to stop stealing my boxers.”

Well, that went to a place she was not expecting. She looked up at him, head brushing against his abdomen as she met his eyes. “What?”

“You need to stop stealing my underwear,” he repeated. “There’s none left for me now.” Her face scrunched up in confusion and he grinned. “I don’t even have any to wear right now.”

Her face heated (which it really should not have, he had said a lot worse things in the midst of sex) and her eyes widened. “You’re…not….”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ just like she had earlier. “I am in fact going commando.”

Well, that would explain why his sagging sweatpants had showed off more skin than usual.

“And you know what else?” he continued, smugly, rubbing her back in just the right way to get her to shiver visibly. “I think maybe you should make it up to me.”

His eyes were hooded, and well, it did not seem like such— _wait a minute_. No, she was not giving in! He was going to have to do better than that to get her attention.

“I could have sworn we did laundry a couple of days ago,” she thought out loud, looking away from him and at the wall across from her. She felt his wavelength ping with something like ‘ _caught!_ ’ and she smiled. “Anyway, I’m busy right now. Go put on a load of laundry if you’re so upset about it.” With a dismissive wave of her hand she returned her attention to her novel.

“But, Makaaa,” he whined again, and leaned down to wrap his arms around her shoulders.

“I’m busy, go away Soul.” Her tone sounded forced to her own ears, but she was determined to win this time.

Soul huffed and tucked his head against her neck. “Can I least sit with you for a little while?”

Goddamnit he was using his puppy voice, sounding all forlorn and miserable because she would not cuddle him. If she were actually seeking solitude, she would have chopped him for it.

She sighed and gestured to the rest of the couch. “If you want to.”

He hummed happily and began to gently push her forward. “Scootch.”

An eyelid twitched. “There’s a whole couch, Soul.”

“I just wanna sit behind you. You can lean on me and read, and I’ll act as your back rest.” She tilted her head to look at him and he gave her a little kiss on the nose. “Please?”

Damn him and his adorable face. Damn her and her softness.

With a few completely feigned (and he probably knew it, the bastard) grumbles, she shuffled forward a little to make room for him.

“Thanks babe,” he cheeked and pressed a kiss to the back of her head, before letting them both settle down.

She was tense for a long while, expecting anything although he did not do actually do anything. He merely held her with his arms around her waist and chin hooked over her shoulder to read her book with her. How was he not bored to tears? She could only guess he was planning something devious to occupy himself.

And she was right. Eventually he started giving her neck soft, slow kisses, trailing them from behind her ear down to the neckline of her t-shirt. She debated simply giving in, especially when he sucked on her skin suddenly, but her stubbornness was too much.

“Soul,” she said in warning, and he only hummed in acknowledgment, not giving up her neck. “I’m trying to read.”

“No one’s stopping you,” was his cheeky reply.

“You’re distracting me.”

And oh, that was the wrong thing to say, it made him unbelievably smug. “Oh, am I?”

He nipped at her throat with his wonderfully sharp teeth, making her gasp.

“Want me to stop?” he teased, massaging her hips.

Part of her wanted to say yes, just to win. Part of her wanted to say no, because his attentions felt far better than they had any right to. In the end her desire won out; she threw her book on the coffee table, turned, and lunged at him.

Needless to say, he was able to add another tally to his side of their mental scoring board, but afterwards, she could not really complain. Soul always rewarded her for her attention, and in full.


	10. Sweetheart

A civ walks up to you and your meister, and you almost bare your teeth at them in warning but Maka gives your hand a squeeze and you are instantly placated. It seems being newly married gives her special powers over you, though it’s not like you weren’t a complete sap for her before.

The civ gushes over how cute the two of you look, are you dating? Married! But so young! Then comes the question of ‘when did you meet?’ and Maka smiles as she answers with a simple ‘we met when we were in high school’.

A high school like the poor middle-aged tourist would never be able to dream of in their wildest nightmares.

The civ cooes a little over how adorable it is when childhood sweethearts love each other enough to stay together into adulthood. Maka blushes a little and you have to fight down a little smile at how cute your wife ( _wife!_ ) is.

Thankfully the civ gets distracted by their tour group before they can ask any more annoying questions, and you and your meister slip away hand in hand to go look at an antique shop.

As she peruses the shelves, you scoff to yourself at the idea of Maka being your _childhood sweetheart_.

DWMA life, especially in EAT classes, could hardly count as a childhood. You have both had to grow up so fast—what with you finding independence at the tender age of twelve, and her being a legacy child who had never been shielded from the horrors of the world—there had not been much a childhood that you could remember.

And ‘ _sweethearts’_ , **blech**. While Maka could perhaps be called sweet, when she was not using you to hack through the bodies of the damned, sweet could never be something to apply to you. And the whole thing made you sound all cutesy and innocent, which you just….aren’t.

The path to your current relationship (partner-friend-lover-spouse-soulmate) has been rocky at best. You had spent the first couple of years barely able to communicate with her, and when you both finally got the hang of being partners and friends, _feelings_ were suddenly thrown into the mix to make everything ten times more complicated that it needed to be. It took a couple more years on top of that to even confess those feelings, and even _that_ was a couple of years ago now.

OK, sure, the idea of you and your meister-wife being childhood sweethearts makes your inner romantic preen, but you are both still _so much more than that_.

You are her confidante, as she is yours. You are literally her weapon, and she is literally (well, pretty much) your guardian angel. You have fought together against evil, and have fought together over chores. While you are sure you would still have a pretty decent life if you had never met her, you are pretty much certain it would pale in comparison to the life you have with her now.

She is more than just your sweetheart, she is you best friend, your partner, your soulmate. She knows all there is to know about Soul ‘Eater’ Evans, just like you know all there is to know about Maka Albarn. No one could ever compare to her.

You would chide yourself for such sappy thoughts on an ordinary day, but as you watch her pick up an item and inspect it, you are reminded that you are both Albarn-Evans now, and if there is any time to be sappy it is now, on your honey moon, belated though it is (stupid kishins).

So you go up to her and pull one of her hands to your lips to give it a little kiss.

She stares at you, a mix between incredulous and surprised and pleased.

“I love you,” you whisper.

She blushes a little, but smiles widely.

“Love you too,” she says. Teasingly she tacks on, “ _Sweetheart_.”


	11. Greeting Card

Black*Star, as the great and all-knowing god that he was, could clearly see that two of his closest disciples had the hots for each other. They were so hot for each other in fact, that if they did not hook up soon, they would probably combust from the sheer force of their hots.

And since he was so awesome, he was determined to help his best bro finally get the girl, and his super sis finally get the boy. After they had worked out all their unresolved sexual tension, they would come running to him to thank him, and praise him for his superb match-making skills.

First though, he had to think of a way that would get Maka to see how much her weapon loved her, because once she was sure her feelings were mutual, she would not be able to stop herself from acting on it. She was stubborn like that. Then came the issue of making it realistic enough so that Maka did not question the authenticity of the Thing.

Thankfully, part of being a ninja was being able to work through the boring covert stuff. This included being able to mimic handwriting. Also thankfully, Soul frankly had pretty shit handwriting, and it was easy to copy.

Now, knowing his best brocicle as he did, Star knew that Soul never got out of bed before at least ten am on a Saturday. This meant Maka went to go collect the mail. And since she loved all that wordy shit, writing a card with a suitably sappy poem would be the best way to let her know about Soul’s feelings.

Getting the card was easy. Practicing Soul’s handwriting was easy. Writing the poem? That was actually a lot harder than he thought it would be.

Eventually, after spending nearly all night trying to come up with something emo enough to appeal to Maka, while still sounding totally romantic and cool, Star stopped giving a fuck, and ended up writing something even more awesome than he would have anticipated.

In his sleep-deprived state, writing about how awesome he was for forcing Soul to confess his feelings had been the smartest thing he did all night, next to writing about how he (as in Soul) was actually completely into tiny tits, so they should totally make out and stuff.

He somehow managed to deliver the card after sealing it in its envelope, which was addressed to the bookworm herself, before going back home and collapsing into bed, falling quickly asleep, proud of himself for being such a benevolent god.

* * *

 Maka looked at the red envelope that had been sandwiched between a bill and a leaflet in mild confusion.

It was Valentine’s Day, and the little heart printed in the corner of the envelope told her that it was very clearly a card for the holiday. And the handwriting used to write her name on the front looked extremely familiar. It certainly _looked_ a lot like the sprawling mess that was her weapon’s handwriting, but…

She glanced at the table, whereupon sat a bouquet of flowers in a vase, with the card that had accompanied it standing beside it.

Why would Soul send her _two_ Valentine’s Day cards?

Sure, she knew her partner was quite clearly a huge sap, and he quite clearly adored her, but he was also quite clearly very lazy. He had already gone through the effort of getting her flowers and a card, why get another one?

With this question rolling around in her head, she opened the envelope and pulled out the card and _oh_ , now everything made sense.

Stifling a giggle she went back to her bedroom, where she had left her partner slumbering as she went to collect the mail. He shifted a little when she sat on the bed, and peered at her from under his messy hair.

“Look what I found,” she said softly, and held the card out for Soul to see.

He took it and rubbed his eyes. Then he blinked. Read the card again. Blinked some more. Finally looked at her with a grim little smile.

“Star’s a little shit.”

She laughed. “That he is.”

Soul flopped back down onto his pillow and sighed. “Maybe this is sign that we should tell people about us. It’s been five months.”

Humming in agreement, she ran a hand through his hair, which made him purr. “Maybe.”


	12. Smitten

Soul knew he had a huge crush on his meister, had known since he was fourteen and the mess with the Immortal Werewolf happened. But he knew how stupid it was to have a crush on his partner, and he that he could get over it, given time.

But he did not count on one thing: the fact that he knew her so well.

Had she just been a normal girl at school, he would have just gotten to know her better, would have found out all her disgusting habits and disturbing secrets. But this was _Maka_ , the girl he had lived with since he was twelve. He had seen the aftermath of her first period, had seen her vomit with the stomach flu, had seen her cry herself sick over her father.

There was not much worse than that.

Eventually, he ended up seeing all the things others would have seen as flaws as endearing. Sure, the fact that she hit him with books sucked, but her angry face was kinda cute, in that bristled kitten kind of way.

So his crush did not go away. It actually got worse.

He knew he was properly screwed by the time he was seventeen. Puberty had been a bitch—to both of them—but now they were coming out the other side, finally fitting into their bodies and Maka was just…plain _hot_. And she was still the kind, compassionate, violent girl he had met five years before and started falling for.

What really sealed the deal though, was an incident that involved an EAT junior boy trying to perv on some of the NOT freshmen girls. Naturally, Maka was pissed.

And as the supportive weapon he was, he stood to the side and let her have him. Watching her throw this guy around like he weighed nothing was both hilarious and ridiculous.

In the midst of this, Soul found himself thinking, with fond exasperation, _Maka Albarn, ladies and gentlemen, the girl I love_. Then he stopped himself.

Love? Did he really _love_ her?

As he watched her give the other student a flying kick to the face after he had made some shitty remark, he realized that _yes, yes he did._

He was totally and utterly smitten.

Of course, she would not find out until quite a bit later. He made sure of that.


	13. Bow and Arrow

Maka sighed a little as she picked up her paper work for the day. Ah yes, it was Valentine’s Day. All the humans on earth were looking for love and she—as well as all the other cupid angles—had to work overtime to supply it. She began to shuffle through her day’s assignments as she walked to the small office she shared with her partner, who was probably trying to get his own paperwork.

He finally appeared at her side, just as she was entering the little room they shared, sighing mournfully at the sizeable stack of paper he carried, though not as big as hers.

“Humans are ridiculous,” Soul muttered as he dropped his work on his desk. “Why did they choose just one day for them all to fall in love with someone? Why not a week, or a month, or a _year_?”

She would have laughed at his pout, but instead she laughed at how hard he jumped when she dropped her own paperwork on her desk.

“You think you have it bad?” she said.

He blinked at her stack. “Holy shit, I always forget how bad the lust is for Valentine’s.”

She only hummed and sank down in her chair to begin sorting through it. The only thing worse than being a cupid on Valentine’s was being a lust cupid on Valentine’s, when the majority of humans were looking for lust as well as love, or just plain old lust.

The work load might not have been so bad if she were still a field agent, but no, too many incidents on too many occasions had left her and her partner on desk duty for the foreseeable future. She might have disliked the fact that she was dealing out lust, but nothing beat the feel of her bow and quiver on her back, and the wind in her wings as she flew with her partner.

As she went through the pile, she filled out the relevant forms, and put them into her out-tray, to poof out of her office and appear in a suitable cupid’s planner.

And as usual, she only managed to make it half-way through her pile before her partner started getting bored and started trying to distract her.

At first he tried calling her name several times, in various cadences and accents. Then he tried prodding her foot with his. Eventually he resorted to throwing pieces of scrap paper at her.

Finally, she snapped when one bounced off her head. “What do you want?!”

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” he simply asked, leaning his cheek on his hand propped up on the table by his elbow. “I’ll cook.”

She stared at him in surprise. “But it’s…my turn.”

He shrugged and his cheeks pinked a little. “Humans think Valentine’s is the day you’re supposed to do something for your significant other. You have way more paperwork than me, so I’ll make dinner tonight.”

She blinked a little, then smiled widely. “I’d like that,” she said softly. “Thank you Soul.”

The little smile that grew on his face was incredibly endearing. “OK, cool.” Then he scratched the back of his neck. “Soooo, what do you want?”

She hummed thoughtfully for a few moments. “Lasagne.”

He nodded.

She managed to get back to work for a little while, now that her partner was placated, but was distracted once more by a little piece of paper being thrown at her.

When she looked up to scold him, she found Soul had his head down as though he was working, but the colour of his cheeks told her otherwise. She slowly picked up the paper he had thrown, and noticing that there was writing on it, she unfurled it. Inside was a little message written in her partner’s messy scrawl.

 _I love you_.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured with a smile, before getting to her feet to walk round the desk to his side. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

She gave him a little peck on the lips, and the goofy smile on his face, and the blush on his cheeks made the day a whole lot better.


	14. True Love

Soul had always figured that if it was going to happen to anyone, it would have happened to Wes. It was always the crown heir being kidnapped, or cursed, or whatever, so as the second son, he always thought he was pretty safe.

It turned out he was wrong. On the day of his sixteenth birthday, his mother confessed, amidst a flood of tears, that he had been carrying a curse since his birth and that he had never been told for fear it was self-fulfilling. Though her tears made her rather incoherent, he managed to decipher that he was going to be prince-knapped by a dragon some time before his twentieth birthday, and that only his true love would be able to save him and slay the beast.

He would have laughed, had his mother not been so distraught. Any thought of it being a joke was wiped form his mind when a witch made an appearance at later that day to remind his parents that the curse was completely unavoidable, and that they could expect it at any point between then and the day he turned twenty.

It was entirely un-princely-like, but Medusa could definitely go fuck herself.

And although his parents tried to keep him safe by making sure he was guarded all day every day from then on, on the eve of his twentieth birthday, a large, red dragon attacked his family’s castle and made off with him. And he spent the next five years locked in a room at the top of a ruined castle, with only an incredibly sarcastic and often mind-fucking dragon for company.

Then, just after he turned twenty-five (or there abouts, it was often hard to keep track of the days when he had the habit of sleeping through the day with insomnia at night), there was a commotion down at the bottom of the castle. Soul tried to get a peek of the action from his single window, but he could not see anything, and once the height started to get to him (why did it have to be the tallest tower?) he sat on his bed to wait.

It was probably a knight who had come to try and save him. His parents had often sent knights to come for him, or at least they had shortly after he had been kidnapped. This was the first time someone had tried to storm the castle in a while, the one hundred percent fatality rate had scared most people off pretty early on. Oni would probably be very pissed for a couple of weeks after this, and try to mess with his mind more than he had already.

He was definitely not looking forward to it.

There was a sudden loud roar from below that shook his ear drums enough to make him cover his ears and wince in pain. Then everything went silent.

Soul sat on his bed for a long time, waiting for something to happen. He began to sweat nervously as time dragged on. He could still hear his mother’s words, that only his true love would be able to save him. He was definitely not ready to face his true love, especially if it was a knight. Most knights were men, and men had always been Wes’ thing, not his.

After several hours of silence, something banged on his locked door loudly, making him jump and nearly fall off his bed. The something banged on the door several more times, until the lock finally gave way, and the door swung open with a bang.

In stumbled a knight dressed in full armour, though they looked a little battered and bruised. Also kinda short for a knight, but Soul was not about to look a gift rescuer in the mouth. Especially if this was supposed to be his true love. And judging by the sudden increase in his heart rate for no reason whatsoever, this was probably it.

Though he had never been very good with words, Soul tried his best. “Thank you for slaying the dragon and rescuing me, brave Sir Knight.” God he sounded so stiff, but he was too anxious to care. He had honestly never anticipated this outcome. “You will be richly rewarded once I return home.”

The knight scoffed. “ _Sir_?” The voice sounded way too high to a man’s. The knight reached for their helmet and pulled it off, along with their chainmail hood, to reveal blonde hair tied back in a low bun and round, young, _feminine_ face. “It’s brave _Dame_ Knight, thank you very much.”

The knight looked pretty pissed at him. She also looked very pretty in general, especially her bright green eyes that watched him like they could see through him.

“But my gender doesn’t matter right now,” the knight continued. She held out a hand for him. “We should go, your highness. It’s not safe here.”

A shiver travelled up his arm and down his spine as he took her hand, and his heart lurched when she squeezed his reassuringly as she dragged him out of his room. The look she gave him over her shoulder as they jogged down the winding stairs of his tower told him she felt it too.

True love indeed. It certainly was not going to be boring with her.


End file.
